


In The Bread Aisle

by Little_Knight



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Kinda, Period-Typical Homophobia, bare with me, basically crack, kinda set in late 40's kinda not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 13:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6081570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Knight/pseuds/Little_Knight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt I saw on tumblr that said "i’m kinda mad because what kind of grocery stores put mistletoes up above the bread section??? but also kind of not because i got stuck with you and your lips are kinda nice"</p>
<p>Grocery stores must have it out for Angie. Because she swears, this isn’t normal. It’s a good thing this is in the dead of night because she doesn’t want any trouble. And kissing the pretty dame with lipstick the color of sin in the middle of the bread isle will get her nothing but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Bread Aisle

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I binge watched the 1st season of Agent Carter awhile back and wrote this and I've decided to upload it. It's not a full drawn out masterpiece, but I like it well enough. 
> 
> The time period appears to shift because 1. I don't know how else to get that midnight super center feel and still have it be in the 40's. There's a tag for Period-Typical homophobia because Angie is raised an Italian Catholic there is no way her family would find that normal, but technically it time period ambiguous. 2. the only things I know about the 1940's comes from Captain America, Agent Carter, fan fiction for both, and the music from that time period. So not much,
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic, please feel free to leave comments telling me how amazing I did/ how i over use comma and don't know when to end sentences.

Angie's always been a little broken. But she could ignore it. Why focus on the fact that you were going to hell for thinking lewd thoughts about the girl with the legs for days, when you could pretend the only one turning your head was the handsome fella at the bar who asked to buy you a drink.

Angie thought she'd probably slipped by unnoticed. After all, God had lotsa people to keep tabs on. The few times that her thoughts weren't what they should've been were few and far between, and she'd  _never_ been punished. In fact life was going pretty great, despite not really doing much with her acting. But boy was she wrong.

She'd had a long shift at the automat, and then spent even longer waiting for an audition that closed right before she actually got to audition. So now it was somewhere around midnight and Angie had to find a store that was open, buy some food (because if she's honest, sometimes it physically pains her to eat every meal with the other girls), and then find a way to sneak her way into the Griffith Hotel without Miriam noticing. Which wasn't likely.

It seems God decided this was the day he was going to get back at her. She'd finally found a store open (why was anyone open?) and was making her way through the aisle's trying to find only the barest essentials. She didn't have anything to keep the food in so canned peaches and the like were all she could get. However bread kept fairly well, and it was the last thing she needed to buy.

This store had the biggest variety of bread that Angie had ever seen. Unfortunately all that did was leave Angie standing there, waiting for some sign that she should pick  _that_ type of bread. She bent over to see the bottom shelves and got on her tiptoes to see the top, and yet no movement made her any closer to choosing. The more tired she got, the more indecisive she became. If at first she was only debating 3 types of bread, after a minute it was 6. 

In the end she was holding 2 loaves of sourdough, trying desperately to figure out the difference, when out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure walk up beside her. Angie was pretty sure it was a woman, but she was more worried about the fact that she couldn't tell different types of bread apart. 

They sat in amiable silence, both trying to figure out what kind of bread to get for almost 5 minutes. After that Angie felt a light hand on her shoulder and a cool voice saying, "Excuse me, but I was wondering if you cold help me," a smooth British accent almost hiding the sleep deprivation from her voice.

And if only that voice didn't make Angie turn red from toe to top.

She slowly spun, turning to face the woman and that was it. This must be the punishment that Angie had been waiting for from God, the thing he would do to get back at her for being broken. 

They lock eyes, and the woman smiles. "I was wondering if you had any idea what kind of bread to choose?"

The words are simple, and yet Angie starts falling. It doesn't matter that it's late at night and she's so tired she might fall over, logical thinking was not part of this situation.

Instead of staring at the woman, whose name has been left out of any sort of introduction, Angie just snorts and says, "I've been sitting here for 15 minutes trying to figure out the same thing English."

The woman looks slightly taken aback at the nickname, but just gives a small smile and says, "Peggy."

"What was that?" Angie heard her perfectly well, but anything English says sounds better than the prettiest melody, and that might just be the lack of sleep talking, but damn if that doesn't make sense to her. In any case, Angie wants to hear more.

Another small smiles curls up those red lips and she repeats, "Peggy, that's my name. Not English, although that is an astute observation."

This time Angie smiles a little, then looks away. In fact she looks at anything other than the woman-- Peggy. The aisle of bread promises no more answers than before, and the ground isn't much better. She looks up and around and suddenly, "You have got to be fucking  _kidding_ me."

It was almost a whisper and yet Peggy's eyes go round at the sudden exclamation. "What," Peggy looks around slightly, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Oh it's... nothing," If she doesn't point it out, nothing has to happen.

Because right above them is a row of mistletoe. And if that isn't premature decoration than what is, it's only November 4th for God's sake.  

Grocery stores must have it out for her, Angie swears. Because, if she's honest, this isn't normal. It's a good thing that it's the dead of night, because Angie's not looking for trouble. Kissing the pretty dame with lipstick as red as sin in the middle of the bread aisle will get her nothing but. 

So Angie averts her eyes from anything above Peggy's own and says, "Really it's nothing, I was just realizing how late it is."

Peggy raises one eyebrow, "If it was nothing, why did you curse so suddenly?"

Angie just smiles and raises the loaves of bread she's been slowly squeezing to death, "So English, you got a preference?"

And why did she say it like that? Because no matter what time of night it is, that would always sound bad. For all that that sound like a come on, Peggy just looks them over and says, "Well, usually prefer them not to be smashed, however sourdough is an excellent choice." 

Peggy is still looking around. Her gaze never goes higher than the top shelf, and yet her sweep the room, trying to find what made Angie curse. If she only looked up another foot or so she would run from the aisle without even taking the bread she came for. 

Angie is trying her hardest not to look up, because right now the only thing stopping Peggy from doing the same is her self control. 

But Angie never had any self control. The only thing she had control over was more because she didn't want to risk the beating she'd surely receive. Even her grandmother would try and beat her into normalcy, lips spewing Italian not fit for kids all the while.

So after an awkward silence that consisted mostly of them locking eyes for a second before turning away slightly, Angie's eyes slipped up above Peggy's head for a total of 1.3 seconds. That short amount of time seemed to be all that Peggy needed.

Within milliseconds of Angie flitting her eyes up to the mistletoe, Peggy's were doing the same, coming to rest on that damned plant.

There's one every few feet, so it's obvious they didn't mean to make a couple of woman sit in silence sometime past midnight, more likely pecks from newly weds and couples so old they couldn't be bothered with decency.

The silence stretches, with Peggy staring up at the mistletoe, and Angie at the ground, hoping it would swallow her up and just take her to hell already.

Then Peggy looks down and gives an odd smile, "Well they seem to be ready for Christmas, a bit odd seeing as it's still November."

Angie can't reply. She's sat in silence dreading the moment when Peggy realizes that Angie would kiss her in a heartbeat, if only things were different. If only she wasn't considered broken. 

Eventually Angie does look up, even gives her own crooked smile. "You know how it is, gotta stay ahead of the game. They'd look like fool decorating for Thanksgiving."

Peggy laughs a little at that. Then they just sit there staring at each other, which to Angie is actually more off putting than actually see the mistletoe. Because they're both sitting there waiting for the other person to act. Only Angie doesn't know if Peggy wants to kiss her, or is waiting for Angie's dismissal of the small plant.

The only thing she's certain of now is that now in between staring into Peggy's eyes and at the ground Angie's eyes slip to Peggy's bright red lips. Every time she does look at them, they quirk up a little more in the corner, forming a smile.

So maybe, just maybe, this isn't such a bad idea Angie thinks. Because not only is she basically obligated to because of the mistletoe, but Peggy seems  _so_ open to being kissed. It's almost hate. except hate doesn't end with the chance of hating yourself when you woke up the next morning.

Before Angie has even fully made up her mind, she feels a hand on the side of her face, and another one curling around her waist. There's a small pause where Peggy is just standing so close Angie can feel her breath on her lips, and their eyes lock. Peggy's seem to be asking a question and Angie nods yes despite not knowing what the question was. And then there's the softest pressure against her lips, and it draws a softer sigh out of Angie.

Peggy, Angie finds, is a fantastic kisser. Angie's hands are carding through her her perfectly styled curls, no doubt ruining them, while Peggy's never stop moving. 

They don't part for several minutes. When they finally do Angie is drunk on Peggy's kisses, and gets high off of the dazed look on her face. The red lipstick is spread all over Peggy's, and no doubt Angie's, face. But the largest smile Angie has ever seen is also there, and somehow that is more important than how wrecked they both look. They sit there grinning at each other for awhile before Peggy starts laughing. 

"What are you laughing at English?"

Peggy scrunches in on herself a little as she laughs. She barely composes herself enough to say, "I'm sorry, but I don't know your name."

That sets Angie off. Every time the laughter dies off, the second they look at each other it starts up again. They sit in this cycle for awhile before Angie breathlessly says, "My name's Angie."

It makes Peggy stop and give a genuine smile. "Well Angie, how about we figure out what kind of bread to get, go get cleaned up, and find a way to speak after this. I'd like to get to know you."

It's a weighted question. This isn't promising some friends to hang out later, this is, well this is not allowed. And yet Angie cannot find it in herself to care. Damn God and his rules to hell, if Peggy is going to be the reason for falling from God's grace, than it's worth it.

"Yeah English, that sounds real good."

And just then, Angie didn't really mind being broken.


End file.
